


DND. Savan. bby Nai. Pillows and Tea

by Saldemar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Family, Soft and sad, father daughter relationship, sick daughter, single parent, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saldemar/pseuds/Saldemar
Summary: DND Inspired little vignette about a single parent and a single kid and the cold.





	DND. Savan. bby Nai. Pillows and Tea

Savan despised rain.  
He hated the way the cold seeped into his bones, despised the shivering, loathed the fucking wind. All of it.  
But he hated what it did to Naivara most.  
Especially when she was small, and he carried her around. She’d turn to ice in his arms. She would go still, and a cold unlike anything he’d ever felt would seep into him. He tried to teach her little things that would help.  
“Just rub your hands together like this,” he said, holding her small hands in his own. “...And puff right onto em. Give it a try sweetheart. Do what I’m doing.”  
She looked downtrodden, and cold, and ill, but she did it.  
Oh how he despised seeing his baby girl so miserable. Hair almost soaked, shivering, curled in on herself, puffing on her hands for warmth.  
He knew, he knew he needed to save his gold. He didn’t have much. A humble savings, from a life he couldn’t return to even if he tried.  
But enough was enough.  
-  
The moment they made it to civilization, he found an inn, got the best room he could afford, and helped Naivara peel off her soggy clothes. Even her boots were soaked. He turned them upside down, and water dribbled out.  
He sighed, and set them aside.  
He took a pillow and peeled off its casing, and used that to dry Naivara off, before wrapping her up in a blanket. He poured out the contents of his bag on a patch of the floor, found one of Naivara’s doll like bedtime outfits, and helped her into them. She wasn’t a toddler anymore, much less a baby, but she didn’t fight it. She didn’t even complain about him bundling her in a blanket.  
She sneezed as he helped her into bed, and Savan felt a pang in his heart.  
“You getting sick darling?” He asked, leaning over and resting a hand on her forehead.  
She was cold. Cold cold cold.  
“I dunno,” she said, her voice muffled by the blanket. “Cold.”  
“I know, starshine, I know,” he said, giving her a peck on the forehead. “I’m going to run downstairs and get you something warm to drink, okay.”  
She gave a nod, and despite every fiber of his being telling him no, don’t leave her alone, don’t leave her alone, don’t leave her alone, he raced downstairs and quickly attained a mug of tea for her. The heat was so pleasant he couldn’t resist taking a sip from the mug before elbowing the door open, and kicking the door shut behind him. It shut with a clang, and in his peripheral, caught a glimpse of Naivara flinching. Hard.  
“No, no-”  
THUNK.  
“Ow!”  
He grimaced, and quickly scurried to her side.  
“Are you alright Naivara?” He asked, setting the mug down. “Be careful I set the mug down, let me help you back into bed.”  
He untangled her from the thick, heavy blanket, and tried to pat down her hair. It may have been short, but it was impossibly wispy and curly. Patting it down and tucking it behind her ears did nothing.  
“I can do it,” she said, trying to tug his hands away from her head.  
“Oh, can you now?” He asked, a mirth in his tired voice.  
She gave him as fierce of a glare as she could.  
Then she sneezed.  
Like a kitten.  
Savan laughed, and reached out to pull her into his grip for a hug. She narrowly missed his grasp, and quickly darted to the foot of the bed.  
She was a small girl. She couldn't even fully see the top of the bed unless she got on her tiptoes.  
She hopped onto the frame, and used the bedpost to pull herself up. She dug her foot into the barely there foothold where the base of the mattress and bedpost met, and with much determination, pulled herself up. It wasn’t graceful. It was klutzy, and she fumbled, tipping her weight too far back and too far forward, but she managed to hook a knee over the mattress, and belly crawl on.  
“See? I did it!” She said, turning to face him with a smile.  
He grinned, beaming.  
“Clever girl!” he said proudly.  
“I know,” she said, quite haughtily.  
“I know,” Savan mimicked, shucking off his boots. He was grinning. “Just like your mother, I swear...” As he spoke, Naivara crawled to the top of the bed, and propped herself up against a pillow. She was already doing better. Her eyes were brighter. She crossed her legs, and rubbed her hands together, puffing on them.  
“oh!” Savan recalled. “I got you tea, sweetheart, just a second. Be careful not to spill it, let me just…”  
He quickly looped a blanket around Naivara’s shoulders, and over her waist.  
“Tell me if it’s too hot,” he said, setting it gently in her lap. “And use the blanket to hold it, just in case.”  
Naivara’s mouth opened in an “o.”  
“It’s so warm!” she said, her knees bouncing in glee. The tea sloshed, and some of it spilled onto her knee. “Oops. Sorry.”  
“It’s fine, that will dry up quickly. Be careful sweetheart.”  
Naivara, the mug bundled in her blanketed palms, lifted it up, and took quick, tiny snips.  
Savan minded his weight, as he adjusted himself around Naivara’s tiny form. He reclined onto the pillows, and for the first time in a long while, he relaxed. His shoulders loosened, his arms went slack. He let his neck fall back, and shut his eyes. 

 

It could have been like this every night.

Savan felt his breath hitch.  
His lungs rattled. His heart pounded. 

“Dad?”  
“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing, love.”

She stared up at him. She saw his eyes were glossy, red creeping into the corners. His smile was tight.

“You’re sad.”  
“I...am tired, sweetheart. Sometimes people get tired. I’m okay.”

He ran his fingers through her hair. 

At some point she had set the mug on the bedside, and had curled up against him. 

As she pulled the blanket close, and tried to pull it over him, she said, “I’m sorry.”

He broke, then.  
He pulled her close, and didn’t even try to smother his rattly lungs and hot face and shaky words.  
“I love you with all my heart Naivara,” he told her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I love you so, so much sweetheart. Never forget that, okay?” 

“I love you too Papa,” she said. Her voice was deflated. A little weak. Confused. She looked up at him like he was a puzzle. 

Savan swiped at his eyes.  
Shit, he thought, propping his elbow over the mass of pillows, and resting his chin on his palm. Fuck. Get control, Savan. You can’t do this, crying in front of your girl.  
He swallowed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Nai,” he said. “Have we ever made a pillow fort?”

She tilted her head at him, her eyes brightening a tad. 

-

Savan took it upon himself to move the chairs, and table, and bags.  
Naivara was so tiny. He was positive that any one of his bags weighed more than she did. 

“Alright sweetheart,” he said, “get those pillows, and arrange em however you like on the floor.”  
“I thought you said the floor was dirty and that when we’re in a inn to sleep in the beds.”  
“....it doesn’t matter when you’re making a pillow fort, love.”  
She squinted at him, before climbing back onto the bed, and shoving them all off in one big swoop. They tumbled to the ground one after the other.  
“I don’t like the floor,” she said. “It’s hard. And cold.”  
“You have no problem napping on the muddy, grubby earth,” Savan said, draping a blanket over a chair.  
“Grass is soft,” she said, pulling a blanket down over her face. “Wood is hard.”  
“Naivara, you’re complaining now but I promise you’ll love it. Just hang tight.”

-

It wasn’t the loveliest thing. Kinda flimsy. He didn’t have much to work with, and the last time he did this he must have been Naivara’s age. He could remember being huddled inside with his sister, playing games and eating snacks. 

It was pretty good, until one of his brothers came along and jumped on the fort from above. God that had been hellish, the snacks smeared and stained the blanket, Savan’s foot got twisted, his sister was livid and wrestled his brother to the floor. Then his parents showed up and GOD, Savan had never heard such yelling. 

Savan didn’t like yelling. Never had. 

The moment the fort was ready, Naivara made it her own. 

Savan plopped himself down, hugging a pillow, and watched her dart in and out. She looked almost hectic, darting in, dropping an item at his feet or in a corner, before scurrying out. She did this several times, and deposited a sketchbook, stuffed animal, blanket, more pillows, and a book smack dab in the center of the fort.  
She very carefully brought him the mug of tea too, setting it at his side before organizing the pile of things.  
Her stuffed animal, a worn little bear, was poised neatly at the entrance of the tent. A little lookout.  
The books, she stacked neatly on top of each other, and the blanket and pillows were fiddled with ceaselessly. She was like a bird nesting, moving and re-organizing and testing the various ways of relaxing. Eventually she just propped a pillow under her chin and pulled a blanket over herself.  
Savan rested curled over a pillow, his eyes heavy. He was close to dozing, but now and then he’d catch a glimpse of Naivara. He couldn’t help the rumble in his chest. Her head tilted all the way down, shoulders tight, pencil gripped tightly in her palm, she looked so serious.  
And all she was doing was doodling flowers. And something that looked almost like a rabbit. 

He reached over and ruffled her hair. She blew a raspberry at him, and he gave her a playful bop on the forehead. 

“What are you doing love?”  
“Drawing,” she said.  
“Can I see?”

She pushed the notebook to him, and crawled on her knees to his side.  
He opened it, and thumbed through the pages slowly.  
He saw flowers, and crude little tree’s, and scribbly little animals and even some rough looking people. In between some pages, there were little leaves and dried up flowers.  
Naivara pressed up into his side. 

“Do you like it?”  
“I love it,” he told her, pulling her into a side hug. “Look at you. You’re already better than I’ll ever be.”

She smiled, flashing her teeth, and he gave her a peck on the side of her head. 

“Y’know what you need to do?” He said, taking the pencil from her hand. “You need to learn to sign your work.”

“Does that mean spelling.”  
“Yes.”  
“I don’t wanna.”  
“But how will people know it’s your work if you don’t leave your name?”

Naivara deflated, and let out a whine. 

“C’mon sweetheart. Look.”  
He spelled out her name, neatly, in common. 

Naivara Goldenholi

She let out a guttural whine, and lied down.  
“Why do I have such a long name?” She asked, hugging a pillow close. “It’s stupid.”  
“Language, Naivara. And it’s a beautiful name.”  
Naivara looked at her name, printed neatly above all her doodles. Then she looked back at her dad. Then back at her name.  
“It looks like scribbles,” she spat.  
Savan sighed, and rubbed at his cheek. 

“It’s a beautiful name, Naivara. Nothing else to say.”

“Did you pick it?”  
“No. I didn’t pick it it.”  
“Who did?”  
“Your mother. She heard it, and thought it was lovely. Paired well with Goldenholi too.”

Naivara looked at her name, written neatly in her sketchbook. 

“When I first learned common I was confused too. I grew learning Elvish before anything else, so branching out was tricky. It would do you some good to learn to read and speak Elvish, down the line.”

“I have to learn more than common?”  
“I expect you to, yes. I’ll teach you.”  
“Uuuuuuuuuuuugh.”  
“Oh don’t be like that. Learning languages is fun.”  
“I don’t WANNA.”  
“Well, you will. Tonight you’re lucky. I’m tired.” He closed the sketchbook, and set it aside. The cup of tea was almost drained, and a warmth had settled around him. He smiled, stretching out, splaying over pillows. He kept his legs bent, fully aware of how he was far too big to be in such a small space.  
Naivara crawled onto him, and rested her cheek against his chest. He could feel her relax, bit by bit. For a while, they lied there, dozing. 

“Love you,” she murmured into his side.  
“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Soon, she went slack, and was breathing softly. 

Savan carded his fingers through her hair, and shut his eyes. He let his world fade away, until the warmth of Naivara and her soft breathing was all that was left.


End file.
